


do you hear what i hear?

by Libennly



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, The flowers have no meaning behind them, do not bother rlooking them up lmao, they're just the first that popped into my head!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Libennly/pseuds/Libennly
Summary: After everything that happened, Jon sits on a bench. Not a comfortable one, no, and not one he'd like to be on under these circumstances, but this is important and he can do important.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	do you hear what i hear?

The birds sang.

It was a miniscule detail, something that a Jon from long ago would completely bypass, his eyes searching for whatever was the bigger picture. Even Jon from a year ago would ignore the birds, though he could hardly blame himself for that, as a year ago there was no birds to sing, and every bird that was there never felt quite right. Always a bit distorted in some way or other, an effect of the Stranger perhaps, or even the Extinction, as the mutilation and harm of animals seemed to fit in with the ‘ruining the earth’ vibe it once possessed.

The birds sang, and it was as sweet as the burst of lemon against his tongue.

The bench was hard, wooden and made with considerably less care than it should’ve gotten. The edges of the wooden boards cut into him and probably leave soft imprints against his coat. It’s uncomfortable to sit on and he probably would get up and move to a different spot, but no other bench was in the exact place he needed, Martin needed, and anyway, he’d be gone in a bit. It didn’t even hurt that much, the coat taking any splinters that may peel away from the wood, only the sharpest ones really hurting him. He was just being dramatic again, and old, and cranky. All those things.

The birds sang, and it was sharp and sudden and shrill.

He never talked to Martin about flowers, despite all those idle chats late into the night where they’ve talk about anything under the moon. He doesn’t even know what Martin’s favourite flower was, and that revelation hit him with a dull thud. Maybe he doesn’t know Martin as well as he thought he did, maybe he could’ve known more, talked more. Does it matter? It’s not as if Martin will ever see the flowers anyway and even if he didn’t like white roses, it’s not as if he’d be able to say anything about it. And even if he could, Martin would probably just take them with a bright smile and scrambled Thank-yous and scurry off to find a nice vase, or a jug or whatever. Martin was just like that, y’know? A pushover, his old self may have called him. An optimist, his younger self may have answered. A person trying to find normalcy in a world where nothing exists, Jon thinks, and only two of those previous statements are true.

The birds sang, and they do not stop until the whistle drills into your brain.

Jon is so tired, so unbelievably drained of thinking, of breathing, of walking. He wants to lie down on the bench, to go to sleep for at least for a little bit until someone mistakes him for being dead again, but he’s worried that, when he wakes up, Martin wouldn’t be in front of him anymore, and he’d be back in their house, feeling alone and so, so small. He rubs his eyes and one creaks under his fist. He does not question it and pulls his arms back down again, lying them against the rough wood of the bench. The bench isn’t even that comfortable, what a dreary place to talk a nap, even a hypothetical one. Martin would laugh, maybe, or pick him up and get them both back home, where they’ve sit on the worn couch and read together, or just exist together really, each relishing in the being of the other, each knowing that this person, at least, was real.

The birds sang, and you sang with them, joyous and yet so scared.

Jon was going to go home in a few minutes, begin the short trek through the town to their home. Maybe, when he gets back, he’d make himself some lunch, fish fingers most likely, or a sandwich. Maybe he’d read a book, he got a new hardback a few days ago in town, one that he couldn’t resist purely because of the charm. Knowing his luck, it’s probably a used notebook, or some obscure ‘monster identifier’ book. Not that he’d need one of those, not anymore. The world is so empty without the other Avatars, and he would dare to call it even lonely. He never liked the others, hardly wanted to associate with them either, but they made good company and conversation, even if most of them took it upon themselves to patronise him with every sentence. He doesn’t miss them, technically, but it’s a near thing to that.

The birds sang, and you cried, your throat filling with nails and bolts as the choruses above you continue. 

Jon sighed, and stood up, his muscles protesting lightly as he did so. They cracked, and so did his resolve, as he turned towards the little space ahead of him and put down the white roses. They looked nice, even as they blended in with the chalky stones, and he didn’t feel the crushing disappointment as he did after every other visit. He felt satisfied? In a way, he guessed, and it wasn’t devoid of sadness, but it was okay.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered and wondered if his voice could be heard over the birds’ singing.

The dirt did naught but stay still, and Jon couldn’t help the small comfort after making sure that Martin hadn’t been buried alive.

He walked away again, his feet crunching on the gravel and his ears ringing with the silence.

The birds stopped singing. You had left and there was no more audience.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway it's 2 am so I'm about to go to sleep.
> 
> I've got a big fic coming out soon! It's a shitty 'Jon Sims but what if John Hunger from TAZ' crossover and its got a total of three extremely good paragraphs and a bunch of 'huh' paragraphs, so be on the look out for that!!
> 
> Leave comments?? Or kudos tbh. Or you can hmu @libennly on tumblr! Love you all and goodnight! ❤️


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